


Darkling Prince

by electricghoti



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Dark, F/M, Implied Sexual Content, Inspired by Fanfiction, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-26
Updated: 2015-02-26
Packaged: 2018-03-15 07:33:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 861
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3438848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/electricghoti/pseuds/electricghoti
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>If Falon'Din had discovered Lavellan's existence, and was not trapped. Solas..is more powerless than he fears. Based on the headcanon of another's view of Falon'Din as a dark/sexual being who wears fabulous glitter and feathers and odd outfits. The odd outfits serve merely as a chilling contrast to his personality. Written somewhat in disconnected/vignette form and will be further updated at a later date as new information/headcanon is given to me.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Darkling Prince

“Touch me. Tease me. Taste me. Do as I say...and I will be your slave.” Her fists clenched involuntarily. The way his tongue lavished over the word 'slave' reminded her of a snake coiling around its prey. That the phrase “but first you will be mine” was left unspoken and implied opened a yawning pit where her stomach used to be. She would rather face a bear blindfolded.

\------------  
“Ah ah ah.” He chastised, his thumb pressing firmly against her windpipe. She grimaced in response, tearing her gaze away from the loss and horror she saw in Solas. Eyes cast down. Uselessly attempting to tear herself away from having the life choked out of her.   
“Eyes only for me.” A command calmly given with threatened promise.   
A prince – god – unused to being ignored in the smallest fashion. “I am not in the habit of repeating myself.” The words whispered as silk, his thumb pressing harder until she finally relented. With a sputtering cough her eyelids flew open. Her eyes wavered in visual conflict, but never strayed from his face. Anger for her damaged pride, fear for his intent. He lightened the pressure against her throat as a reward for compliance. Breathable, but still very much in control.

\-------------  
“Do you not remember the choice I gave, Fen'Harel? As I recall, I was rather clear before you stepped through my mirror. Cake, or death?” He may as well have been dictating a letter to a tax collector if the dismissive, bland tone he spoke with were an indication of his mood.  
“I do not see how that is re-” He cut himself off abruptly, biting back a curse or three. He had responded with 'death,' of course, which triggered the geas crafted into the Eluvian he used to exit Death's domain. Not the exit he planned, but the most expedient one under the circumstances.  
A choice which cost him…

“The death of your freedom, little rebel.” The thought was finished audibly, sparing not a glance in his direction. Too far beneath him for attention, yet the inflection of his voice lifted in a smile.  
“Sit. Stay.” He ordered, pleased with himself for his little joke. He turned his head slightly so that a blighted eye faced the man compulsively obeying his command. “We...” he indicated, caressing his captive's cheek with own as a cat might rub against a leg. Sparkled powder smeared against her cheek. The first mark of many to come. “We must have some time to play. It has been ages since I have been gifted with such a pleasing trinket.”

The caged Wolf could only stare in equal parts dread and despair, uselessly frozen on the ground. He may have been a god, but a geas weaved a chain of compulsion even the Eldest of the Sun would have to follow. He sat. He stayed.  
Even when the Friend of the Dead forced his heart to fall to her knees, pained with sting of gravel. Even as the hand slid from her throat to cup her jaw, thumb on her mouth hushing her to silence, his own crooning soft words into her ear.  
Even while the other hand coiled around her waist like the possessive snake he was.  
Even though his heart, with sparkling, pleading eyes begged him for solace in silence.  
They both slumped over. Limp. His heart devoured beneath the body of another who held his leash. Forced to the Fade where Falon'Din alone could navigate the foggy paths that spanned the world in dreams

\------------  
“My heart is not for you to twist as you wish.” Still some fight in her. Useful for later. The pride of the Dread Wolf would, as he would expect, bend but not break. Yet.

“I never said I wanted your love.” Coldly said. Face tilted with a quirk of the lips. Amusement that such a cute concept should move him. A gloved hand scaled with bone twisted in her hair, sharply jerking her head back to expose a neck blossoming with a thumb-print bruise in the center.  
His mouth opened wide, teeth on her neck like a lion silencing a lamb. He found the outline of her windpipe and bit sharply. Would he tear out her throat, or wouldn't he? A panicked choke was his reward. His brief hold released. He pulled back slowly, teeth roughly scraping against her skin while lips gently smoothed behind them. He nipped the bruised skin in the middle sharply before pulling his face upward. Drawing himself up to full height, looming over her so that his face was all she could see.  
“Another time, heart.” He spoke dismissively, finally unwinding his fingers from her hair. Even as he turned to leave, he drew out a gentle caress down her jawline. Intimate. A promise for later.

The idea chilled her more than ice. She drew a hand up around her neck, another around her waist as if her arms alone could protect her from..violation. She leaned against the wall, sliding downward to hide behind knees drawn upward against her chest. Even red lyrium, blighted and blood-feeding, did not scare more than the Friend of the Dead.


End file.
